Still Waters Run Deep
by Big Diesel
Summary: Still Waters Run Deep encompasses a tale of being wary of those who display a subtle or passionate nature. Yuuri returns to Detroit to be honored at his old skating rink. He is appointed an escort named Ayano to watch over him. What Ayano called protection consumes her to the point where Yuuri calls it possession and obsession. Step into the world as Yuuri fights to escape her web.


It was a little after three in the morning when the airplane landed on the tarmac. The sound of the pilot alerting his passengers that they have arrived at their destination alerted Yuuri to quickly reach for his cell phone. He wasn't in a hurry to leave the plane. He gave the more expedient or disadvantaged passengers their opportunity to depart before heading out of the plane. The moment he turned on his phone, the many alerts ring into the night. Passengers gave him stares, murmurs, and whispers on using such a loud device in the dead of night. He nervously smiled, bowing and apologizing to the slowly waking passengers.

The first thing he did was get in contact with his husband/coach, Victor. He knew it would have been late in the afternoon when Victor was, but he was eager to alert his beloved that he had arrived in Detroit.

It wasn't a second when he picked up. "Good morning, dear," said the voice of Viktor from the other line. A slight chill, but warmth entered Yuuri's spine. It was uneasy of being separated from Viktor. It has been barely been a few weeks since their wedding. The duo was still in honeymoon mode. Of course, it was met with a mixture of awes and wonder with a combination of smugness and lack of beatitudes, but they didn't care. His smile spread from ear to ear, just hearing his voice was desirable that he wanted to alert the pilot to return him to Japan as soon as possible.

"Morning, baby," said Yuuri. His low giggling reminded him of his schoolboy days. The days when he and his sisters frequented the skating rink. The feeling of excitement, the passion was relived in the airplane seat as he ingested his husband's voice. "I just wanted to alert you that I have arrived in Detroit."

"Excellent. I was worried about you heading out there alone. And without me with you," pouted his better half Russian. "Just thinking of you being on the other side makes me wish technology was capable of throwing myself on the other side to be with you."

"Aren't you sweet," replied Yuuri, staring at the golden ring that he and Victor have for each other. That symbol gives him chills on this expedition of life that he felt God himself designed for him. "I do miss you, baby. I am however fortunate to be back on common ground." He scanned the area. "I mean, this is the place where I can say my career got started." He yawned into his hand, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his passport. Along with a passport, he pulled out a picture.

Yuuri had credited his first coach, Celestino Cialdini, for setting him up in the Motor City. Pictured in front of the old skating rink alongside his coach and old running rate, Phichit Chulanont. Despite only living in America in those five short years, Detroit gave him the boost to set up him the events that unfolded once he got involved in the Japan Grand Prix. Also, if it wasn't for that move, his husband would have never entered the picture.

A few days ago, Yuuri received a letter in the mail. In the letter, it stated that the old skating rink was going to dedicate an exhibit on his behalf. He was excited to know that the skating rink was going to dedicate an area based on the efforts of his hard work. Immediately, he phoned Victor, his former coach, P.C., and among many others. Even the Russian punk, Yuri, was informed of the announcement. Later that evening, the couple celebrated with dinner. A large Russo-Japanese feast was demanded. They toasted to Yuuri's effort and concluded their celebrations with a nightcap at a nearby hotel.

Thinking about that night made Yuuri get an itch in his pants. He maintained his composure for he wasn't in the right place to engage in those acts. However, he made a mental note to have some fun with Viktor on the phone whenever he had arrived to his hotel.

"So, you have everything arranged," asked Victor.

"I do," replied Yuuri. "Everything came through the email. The owner and Celestino gave arrangements of hotel, restaurants, and things I want to see." He smiled. "I even get an opportunity to return to Canada and check out some old turfs."

"Turfs," retorted Victor. "Don't let a few minutes out of Japan thinking that you want to get 'gangsta.'"

"Why," interjected Yuuri. "I did five years out here. I think I have earned my stripes. If I were you, I wouldn't be caught "lackin'."

Viktor laughed loudly. "Alright, OG Yuuri. Just let me know when you have arrived at your destination. I will be waiting for you."

"Of course, darling," answered Yuuri. "I love you, dear."

"I love you more, my precious piglet," said Victor.

The duo exchanged kissing sounds before Yuuri hang the phone. By the time he had finished, he saw the passengers were mostly gone. He stood up and retrieved his briefcase and his traveling book before stepping out on the airplane.

It felt weird that he was back in his old stomping grounds. Not much has changed since he had left Detroit a couple of years back. He entered the terminal and joined the sea of faces in the moving, rapid current. The people flowed like a current, moving to their destinations. Grabbing their luggage and heading to parts unknown. Yuuri always traveled light. He knew there were plenty of people, sponsors who supported the young skater who would supply him with gear and outfits. His stomach began rumbling. The first thing on his mind was to feast on some soul food.

He went to the area to receive his luggage. Once he had that, he went into his pocket to pull out his itinerary. He was searching for the number of the contact that was going to take him to his hotel. He scanned through the paper to find the number. Celestino thought that to prevent any paparazzi presence or harassment from the press, that he consulted the escort service. Yuuri agreed. That was why he was grateful that his sister assisted him with his long, brown wig. He wasn't wearing his glasses. Wearing contact instead. He wore sunglasses despite being so early in the morning. As much as Yuuri garnered fame and opportunity, he still was human and wanted his privacy.

Once he found the number, he was able to make contact. It wasn't long until he received an answer. "Good morning," answered Yuuri in English. "This is Mr. Nikiforov." He covered his mouth and spoke in a low tone. Despite not being many people, he still didn't want to direct any attention. "I wanted to alert you all that I have arrived to the airport. I am patiently waiting for my escort to pick me up and send me to the hotel. Is there anything I need to know how to find them?"

The limo escorting service told the skater to look out for a woman. She would be wearing a red peacoat. She will be arriving in the next few minutes. She would send him a text of her arrival. Yuuri thankfully bowed and hang up the phone.

It wasn't a few feet he walked from the luggage area when he received a notification. He looked to his phone and read the text.

 _Evening, Mr. N. I am waiting outside of the terminal. I will be in a black cab with a recognizable scratch on the front passenger door._

 _Ayano_

He mouthed her name, as if in a form of a whisper. He was quite surprised to see a fellow Japanese escorting him. He wouldn't have cared if the person was a different race and gender. With his being homosexual and involved in an interracial relationship, he had no room to judge. He cast those thoughts as he grabbed his things and made his way outside.

The cold, midwestern air returned its embrace to Yuuri. His teeth rattled, grateful that his beloved got him a scarf, just in case. He secured it tightly around his neck as he searched for the taxi in question. He knew that it will stand out, for most taxis were yellow. There were Uber drivers and Lyft drivers with their vehicles, but it didn't matter as of now. The nearly twenty-four flight exhausted him and he was in a need of a shower and some rest.

The sound of a car horn alerted him. He turned and he saw the taxi with the noticeable scratch on the front passenger door. The woman turned on her flashers and exited the vehicle. Like they said, she was wearing a red peacoat. She gave Yuuri a slight glare, then softening her face when seeing through the disguise. He concluded that she was informed on his attire beforehand.

"You are Mr. N," asked the woman.

"Are you Ayano," retorted the skater.

The woman replied by extending her hand. She then bowed following the greeting. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Nikiforov," answered Ayano in Japanese. "Allow me to take your luggage." She took his luggage and placed it beside the trunk. She then pulled the door for him to enter the vehicle. He let out a smile, bowing a thanks as he enter inside.

The inside of the cab was more of a confessional booth in a Catholic church. The inside was dark and so were the windows of the vehicle. The would be glass at the front of the cab was substituted with wood grain with egg-crate foam. The foam was spray painted in black, supporting the background of the cab. Yuuri concluded that it had to be a private taxi line. Having these kinds of things in the cab must have to violate many of the local town's statures and gave him an eerie feeling. Regardless, he shook those thoughts out of his mind. He trusted the people who arranged this. Therefore, why place that fear into his conscious?

The woman entered the vehicle. She turned her blinkers off. She pursed her lips, checking herself in the mirror as she put on her seat belt. "First of all," she said as she adjusted herself. "Welcome to Detroit. My name is Ayano Murakami. You can call me Ayano or Ms. Murakami. However you want, sir. Thank you for allowing me to escort you on this journey. I hope everything will be to your liking."

Yuuri replied by his giving her a gentle smile. As he was profiling her, she was very average looking. Her nose was pointy. Her face was indented, in a way, concave. Her eyes were brown. Her teeth were very white. Her hair was short and had a boyish cut. If it was not for her curvy figure, and wearing a dress, she could have been easily mistaken for a boy.

Her outfit concealed her breast and her butt. It was oversized. He wondered on why would she wear an oversized dress. Was she insure, he thought. Did she not want to be objectified, he also thought. Whatever her reasons, it was to be put on hold. He started yawning loudly, seeking sleep. "Thank you for your kindness. Now, I would like to be taken to my hotel, if you please."

"Certainly, sir," answered Ayano.

Ayano put the car into gear and entered the main thoroughly. She turned on the radio. She kept it at a low volume. The sound of soft rock entered the vehicle. As Yuuri got adjusted to his seat, he felt that the car ride was smooth and did not show any bumps. He was not even sure he was riding in a vehicle. It felt like an airplane or riding on an assembly line; something he had neither experienced. The music was coming from the speakers in the backseat. He felt every vibration, every note the musicians were making. It was very detailed, he thought. It reminded him of going to a movie theatre. Even so, the sound system was custom made. There was no way a privately owned cab could afford something of this worth, Yuuri thought.

He continued yawning until his eyes were becoming blurry. He drifted into sleep, thinking of the events that were to come on this trip.


End file.
